SkyChord
by kishimoto.atari
Summary: Volume on, lights down, vocals START! You can't seriously expect a beat-master to stop coming up with songs, even after death, even if it does mean restarting in a different universe. The Sawada house is not going to be quiet at any point in time.


I am Karasuma Toriko, not Sawada Naomi I have short black hair, not long brown strands. My eyes are black, not siena. I am 18 years old, not 4. Most of all, my father is Karasuma-sensei, not some bastard called Sawada Iemitsu.

Karasuma-sensei was how I referred to my father, regardless of how he wanted me to call him otou-san, or some other ridiculous terms. He was a kind, strict teacher who was constantly chasing my tail for unfinished homework, and a bloody good parent after my mother died. Mother was still a touchy subject after four years, so I only got to hear small things, like what her hair color was, or what she liked to eat, but I saw some old pictures and she looked more badass in her teenage years than I think I will in my entire life. Note, I worded that wrong. She actually did look more badass in her teenage years than I did in my entire life.

Still, you've got to give me credit for trying to live up to her legacy of beat-master.

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Volume on, percussion and electric chord beats at full force is how I live, it may just be a hobby unfit for a job, but its enough so that I can be call myself a mix-master. Self-recordings, altered on a voice-system can do wonders on youtube, (11,500 subscribers!) Whether the theme of music is hard electric, or full echoing vocals in French. I'll do it on pure whim. But, unlike the large pockets of free time that I had in middle school, there are the oncoming threat of college applications. I skip out on the chance to do a late night recording, (while mentally apologizing to subscribers) and go get a latte at starbucks nearby to stay awake studying. Its not like anyone actually knows who made the music, they only know me online as a mix-master with a screen name of: **SkyChord**. Anyway, the Starbucks is only a few blocks away, so walking out of the apartment door into the murky and rainy Tokyo weather is okay according to Karasuma-sensei.

The constant patter of a light drizzle gives me a beat to walk to as I cram some of the physics concepts Karasuma-sensei drilled into my head earlier. The dirty air of Tokyo is purified by the brief rain and gives downtown Tokyo a misty look. Skipping an alleyway with a homeless person in it, I reach Starbucks and order my drink before saying goodbye to the clerk and swooping out the door.

The brain has a system of flight or fight. When coming across a life or death situation, the brain automatically releases a chemical that blocks the nerve receptors controlling fatigue throughout the body, and gives a subconscious choice to fight the threat, or flee from it. While walking back to home I did neither while in the headlights of a glaring mercedes. standing in the middle of the road while my eyes widened at the oncoming car. Nearly crushing the caramel mocha latte with a espresso shot from starbucks and clutching my ipod shuffle was the only thing I could get my body to do while waiting for impact.

_ Skreech!_

Normally the car might be able to stop, but the streets, still slippery with rain didn't help with my survival.

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The crash wasn't a clean hit, at the last few seconds, my body finally started moving towards the sides of the road. Instead of a clean blow that would have snapped my spinal cord and ended pain receptors to the brain, I'm going to die from blood loss. It's extremely painful and strange, having your vision fade out , seeing the red of blood staining the streets while not wanting to look downwards at the red mess that used to be the top right corner of your lung. while the only thing you can hear are shouts and the particularly loud sound of your breathing and heart.

It hurts so much, but I don't want to die… Not just yet… I have goals to achieve, people to please and a Karasuma-sensei who's expecting to see me graduate from college and have his grandchildren. A stark laugh that I think is from me seems to vibrate across my conscience before pitying the driver who crashed into me. Karasuma-sensei is probably going to give the idiot high hell.

Please,someone, anyone, if you can hear me. Help me. Please.

Please...

Death seems so black… Lonely… There's no gentle beat of a heart anywhere, no steady thrum of train engines or rapid beeping of car horns. Like a blank sheet of music staff paper why not fill it with music? Theres no voice system here, but a monophonic staff will have to do.

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I heard that children start developing memories at four years old, but not this way.I'm expecting death, but instead I wake up in a preschool center with a notion that my name was Sawada Naomi, and the lump of fuzzy brown hair next to me was my brother. Murphy's law is definitely screwing with me. I try to speak,and my voice is two times as high as I'm used to hearing, I'm dressed in a light orange baby shirt and the toddler playground that I'd usually be towering over is three times my height while standing up. The strangest thing seems to be that my head is about two times the size of my body according to the baby mirror that I picked up. Doing my best not to show my distress at the strangeness of the situation, I took a deep breath and sat down in the curb of my brother's stomach (a surprisingly comfortable back rest.)

While observing my pudgy fingers trying to pick up multiple objects around the schoolyard and prodding the fuzzy hairball next to me, I officially came to the conclusion that I never want to be a four year old ever again.

Hygiene was out of the question when talking about preschool, everything I pick up smells like spit,(not due to my brother drooling over my arm.) When I tried talking to him, I learned his name was Tsunayoshi, and insisted on starting his every sentence with: "Tsu-chan" lisp. Apart from that, I'm pretty sure I saw a short haired sporty boy wearing a baseball tee-shirt stuff a mud-pie into his mouth before spitting it out because it had a stick in it. To add another disgusting feat, a puddle of pee was coming from under a short brown haired girl when a scowling girl the same age, scolded her for giving her last jolly rancher to a jerk-wad named Mochida. I'm pretty sure she would be a good friend- if she stopped baring her teeth and attacking other kids with her sharp tongue and wit. (effectively making several other children cry.)

Lunch time was different if not worse, I refused to eat any of the funny smelling baby formula or tofu and stuck to drinking milk. While a frazzled teenager acting as caretaker for the orphanage came over, I immediately felt sympathy as a suspicious blob of white stuff came barfing out of a kids mouth and onto his shoe. Otherwise, the strawberry milk kept my mouth occupied as I occasionally reined Tsuna back to where I was sitting when he tried to eat a dried worm from beneath his shoe. Heaving a deep sigh, I just hoped the teenager didn't resort to suicide as a dozen or so charged at the teen's legs before shoving a pencil into his nose.

In short. I wanted out of this hell-hole as soon as possible.

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After a few hours of listening to hysterical Tsuna crying his delight or distress at multiple objects, I was ready to barf at the brightly fruit patterned walls that several kids were licking (Hey! this one is a pineapple! It tastes like pineapple!) Sanity and all things good came in the form of the school day end.

Tsuna and I were picked up by a slightly hyper if not permanently cheerful person that I'm assuming is our mother, if not a aunt due to her hair color, and brought to a house that looked almost completely alike to the ones next to it if not for the name plate in front. We were given extra snacks and juice boxes that didn't taste like some choice words that I couldn't say at the orphanage. With Tsuna effectively put to sleep because of a full stomach, I clambered to the top of a dresser from the nearby bed.

It wasn't too much of a good idea, as I nearly fainted. The reason?

My eyes were freaking san francisco golden gate bridge orange.


End file.
